


Not A Carnival, Folks

by kuonji



Series: A Different Sort Of Command [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Animals, Gen, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"We can call it the SGC for short." </em>Jack has his hands full.  (Metaphorically speaking, of course.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Carnival, Folks

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Links:  
> <http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/15638.html>

"Who could that be?"

Jack had been about to ask the same question, but Dan's soft-spoken mate beat him to it. Ahead of them, Sam seemed to be in deep conversation with two strangers.

"Hi, Sammy, what's up?" Dan asked as they reached the huddled group. Sam turned to them, her ears perked up and her tail flicking with restrained excitement.

"We've got company," Sam announced unnecessarily.

Jack looked over the two cats who were with her. One was a gray tabby, with frizzled hair and round markings around his eyes that gave him a perpetually nonplussed air. The other was a strong-boned tom with scraggly mid-length hair, of indeterminate breed. Jack had the impression that he might have seen them before.

"They came over the fence from the farm next door," Sam explained. "Apparently, they've been watching us this whole week. They want to help."

Jack pawed the ground, disquieted. He didn't have anything against Farmer West or his animals, but somewhere along the line, he'd gotten to labelling this little project as belonging to his own little team. In any case, he didn't like the thought of being spied on.

Dan, predictably, didn't see any problem with it. "That's great! What can they do?" he asked.

"This tom's specialty is electric wiring." Sam indicated the gray tabby. "His name's Siler. That's Woody. He knows his way around tools."

Siler licked his front paw in a polite but silent greeting. Woody flicked his bushy tail hello, but his attention was clearly on the gate, his neck craning in odd angles, all of which looked uncomfortable to Jack. "Cooool," he heard the cat mutter.

"That's great. So, I guess the work will go faster now?" he said, brusquely.

"Oh, certainly," Sam replied. "Though I would argue, that's not the point."

"As the humans say, 'getting there is half the fun'," Danny said. The others nodded, while Jack rolled his eyes in irritation.

"They don't say that. Who says that?"

"The television," Sha're answered, matter-of-factly. Again, sage nods went around the circle. _Housepets!_

"Okay, kids, take your time. But...!" Five pairs of eyes turned to him. "Let's keep this low-key, okay?"

***

Quite inexplicably, in spite of Jack's warnings, news of their project began spreading throughout the farm.

The curious, skeptical, and eager all found time to drop by. Jack's quiet little retirement pasture was being overrun by every manner of animal. (Ferret, the evil goat the next pasture over, was flouting his escape-artist skills in exchange for ounces of feed.)

It was when a gaggle of ducks landed in Jack's treasured pond, leaving mud and feathers everywhere, that he finally lost it.

Shouldering and kicking his way to the center of the mob, he put his head back and yelled, "HEY!" He glared at the huddles of feathers and fur around him. "This is not a carnival, folks!" he brayed. "Unless you're here to help, get out of here, _now_ , or next thing you'll have is a hole in the head!" Animals shifted nervously and began to move off. "Go on, get out of here. And tell everyone else!" Jack yelled after them.

"Wasn't that a bit harsh?" Dan asked.

"Naw. You have to be firm with some animals to get them to listen."

Unfortunately for Jack, the world at large seemed to interpret his outburst as a call for volunteers. Very soon, they found themselves once more inundated with a stream of animals, this time proclaiming their own skills and clamoring to join in the fun.

Jack was all ready to kick them out again, when Sam intervened.

"Jack, there's no reason to turn away animals who actually want to help us."

Woody, a bright orange tool of some kind from who-know's-where in his mouth, gave Jack a pointed look as he trotted by in a show of efficient bustle. Siler looked up from his study of a diagram sketched in the dirt and pricked his ears forward. "She has a point," he said.

"What happened to 'getting there is half the fun'?"

"There's another popular expression: 'The more the merrier.'"

Jack groaned as Dan joined in the appeal.

"All right, all right." He turned away from his jubilant team to study the new 'recruits' with a baleful eye. "You!" He snapped his teeth at a likely-looking rooster. "Get these animals organized by what they can do, and report to me when you're done."

"Yes, sir!" The tiny Wyandotte bantam drew himself upright and fluffed out his feathers. Clearly proud beyond reason at obtaining Jack's distinction, he strutted off to work with a strident voice that quickly took effect.

Jack decided he could get used to that.

***

Once the new animals were sorted out and settled into a schedule, they fell into a pattern.

Most of the animals were placed as rotating lookouts, with some assigned to teams to assist Sam and her buddies. The three cats would show up past noon and get to work. At dusk they cleaned up, presumably going back to their usual rodent management work at home.

Dan and Sha're would join them whenever they could, usually just before dinnertime nowadays. They and the cats would compare notes in steadily increasing states of excitement. All Jack ever wanted to know was when they would be done, which estimates they dutifully supplied. After that, Jack would just let their babble wash over him while he grazed.

Dan and Sammy were having the time of their lives. Best of all, things quieted down considerably, and Jack finally was able to catch a decent nap again. Once a day, one or the other fresh-faced youngster on duty would report to Jack with news, and after the requisite sniffs of encouragement Jack would send them away happy.

This was, he reflected, actually pretty fun.

At one point, Dan came to Jack, looking bright-eyed and perky and said, "We should have a name."

Jack snorted out of a doze and asked, "Who's we?"

"You know. Us. All the animals working on this gate project."

Jack flicked his tail. "Sure, whatever. We can call it the gate project." He turned his other side to the sun.

"Well, actually..." Jack gave him a resigned, knowing look, and Dan had the grace to look embarrassed. "I was thinking we could call it the Big Gate Carnival."

"Oh, very funny, Danny."

Dan snickered. "Okay, actually, I was thinking we could be the Starting Gate Cooperative. It's a pun. A starting gate is what a horse runs out of at the beginning of a race, so it has connotations of spirit and hope. And we're a cooperative for starting the gate working. See?"

"Clever."

"I thought so." Dan looked smug. "We can call it the SGC for short."

"'Ass gee see'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"'Ess'. And it's an acronymn."

"A what?"

"It's something humans do. See, if you put the words 'starting', 'gate', and 'cooperative' in human English, then take the first letter of--"

"All right! La, la la, I don't care. SGC is perfect. Just stop... _explaining_ it."

"Great! Then the SGC it is." Jack wondered if he'd been had.

The triumph on Dan's face fell when Jack added, "Anything that places the ass first is fine with me."

***

The days rushed by. Before Jack knew it, the Big Event was ready.

At dawn, in a hush of anticipation, Sammy gathered everyone around. She instructed them to stand well back from the calculated radius of the swing of the gates, before she fiddled with something on the motor that presumably turned it on.

There was a grinding sound and a brief squeal, and like some creature from the distant past -- the gate opened.

The first thing Jack saw was a pool of rippling blue. "Whoa," he breathed. A windblown pond of the clearest water Jack had ever seen reflected the sky like a giant, glittering cloth.

It lapped up to mere inches from where the gate had used to be.

"I guess now we know why the gate was sealed," Jack quipped. Also, why that part of his pasture always got particularly soggy after a good rainfall.

No one answered him, and Jack realized that everyone else was staring raptly at the outside world. It was a different place, Jack had to admit. Trees, trees, and more trees filled their view straight ahead, across from the pond. A dirt road wound away to the horizon on either side. Boulders and rocks, which would have been dug up and removed assiduously from Hammond's grounds, littered the land outside.

"We've got to go out there," Dan said.

"We have to explore!" Sam followed enthusiastically.

"Whoa, whoa, nobody ever said anything about going _through_ the gate!" Jack warned, trying to nip that in the bud.

"But, Jack, _look_ at all that!" Dan exclaimed. Sam didn't say anything, but Jack could see the same shimmer of barely restrained energy. Behind her, Sha're was dancing with excitement, while Woody was literally jumping up and down. Even Siler looked on the edge of a pounce.

Jack rolled his eyes. "All right. Four at a time. No more than two hours per trip. And exploring only; we don't bring anything back with us, capische?" Dan and Sam exchanged looks but seemed to agree with the reasonableness of the conditions. "And," Jack added, as he saw them all looking ready to leap into the water, "we don't start until tomorrow."

There were some grumbles, but overall, the other animals gave in to his leadership with gratifying ease.

 _We'll see how long that lasts..._ Jack thought to himself.

He had a feeling that his retirement was about to get a lot more exciting than he had ever planned.

  
END.

**Author's Note:**

> I found the [perfect donkey for Jack](http://farm1.static.flickr.com/227/520481273_dd632fb63b_o.jpg)!  (Credit: [this page](http://inphotos.org/tag/donkey/))  
> 


End file.
